The World Falls Down
by noadiah
Summary: They all said that if the world fell down around me, I would still be standing. Lily Evans would walk out of the wreckage with her head held high. Well, now the world is falling down around me, and I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm falling apart
1. Forward: Twenty Years From Now

Forward: Twenty Years from Now

At one point in the craziness that became my life during its seventeenth year, James told me this: "When the world is falling down around you, don't watch it. Keep your mind focused on something else, and before you know it, everything will be alright." This, I have come to learn, was a wonderful philosophy to have . . . for a teenage boy going through a hard time. It doesn't exactly work when it's really the entire world, and not just your small part of it, that's falling down around you. I have had to learn different strategies of coping with the terror I have come to live with every day.

One day, when I was finally cleaning out a few old boxes I hadn't been through since I moved into my own place, I found the old wooden box I received for my fifth birthday from my grandpa – who died the next year – in which I keep all of my old journals. It was late January 1979, come to think of it. I decided to set aside a day to read them all, as I was between jobs at the time, and had nothing at all to do but mope around the house watching soap operas on the telly. As I was reading, my own life unfolded before me like a forgotten dream. All of the hopes and dreams of childhood became the wonder of discovery during my early teenage years, and then, in turn, slowly began to fall apart. I cried a lot that day.

Later that week, in a seemingly unconnected event, a group of friends and I met at James's house for what was meant to be a fun night to forget our troubles. Instead, like most things now tend to do, it turned into a night of pain and reminiscence. We began to talk about the lost, and the stories they could have told, as we told our own. We talked about how, twenty years from now, no one would remember our names. We would be just another group of people that lived and died, useless, forgettable. We would be nothing.

I remember distinctly the way Remus spoke of what he regretted. I wish now I had paid more attention to the others, and their reactions. He said, "I wish we had known that our innocence was running out. But then, I guess if we had known that, we wouldn't have been innocent any longer." Those words stuck with me. I have them recorded in the last pages of this year's journal, which I always reserve for the type of quotes you can't get out of your head until you know that they're safely tucked away somewhere.

When everyone else had gone home, I remember talking to James about the wedding. We hadn't set a date yet. Our engagement, at that point, had already been longer than the entire time we had dated, which can't be normal. But then again, we're not normal people. James was getting anxious and, to tell the truth, so was I. Neither of us will ever say it, but I think that we both feared the other was getting scared. After everything we'd been through, it would have shattered me. So, we set a date, in the shadow of fear and regret.

That night, we had all discussed our own mortality beyond what we had all already come to accept. We knew that we could all die the next moment, in the blink of an eye, but this was different. This mortality meant that we would be forgotten. We had discussed the wish to tell those people twenty years from now about our lives, and warn them of the dangers we had, so far, lived through. I left that night thinking nothing of it.

When I returned home, I saw the tattered old books spread across the coffee table, on the couch, across the floor. I hadn't been able to bring myself to put them away. I remember thinking of how my own life was recorded in those books. All of the struggles, heartaches and tears, all of the joy I felt, all of the love I shared, was there, written on the pages bound by a dozen or so tattered bindings, well-worn from use. I remember wishing how there was some way those people twenty years from now could see those books, could read of the life they possessed and learn from her mistakes. I went to bed that night thinking nothing of it.

When I awoke that morning, I entered the living room with my coffee in hand, and stood in the doorway a moment, staring at those books. Have you ever had one of those moments when you just _know_? I have them a lot. I _knew_ what I had to do with those books.

I have compiled those books into this, a warning, a life – a story. Isn't that really what all stories are, life and warning? Maybe one day, if I should die in this war, someone else will pick this up and publish it, so that everyone can know our lives. I guess if you're reading this, someone already has. Or, perhaps, you will be the one to do so. I have done this for you, whoever you may be, so that you can know. Knowledge is the greatest gift mankind can have. It is all that I can give you. Read this, so that you may know our lives, remember our names, and gain our knowledge. Read this.

I am an emotional person. I am irrational and passionate. I loved more than some could ever imagine. I lived more dangerously that most would dare to dream about. I lived - a lot. It's reassuring to know that the life I lived will not have been in vain, if you read this. At the moment, it's all I have to live for.


	2. Are You Ready?

**I hate this, but I've got a few things to take care of before we really get into this. Oh, and sorry for the huge gap between the prologue and now. I was having immense trouble with this chapter, and I'm still very _ish_ about it.**

**You might look at this and think, "What, first person? What is she thinking?" I thought it would be fun to do this. I wanted to do a diary fic, but I quickly learned that it wouldn't work at all for what I was going for. And then I discovered that the first person gave a certain insight into the particular moment of the scene. It's like a constant diary running in Lily's head. I especially liked this because she doesn't know what a certain action's outcome will be, and I felt that it made the story so much more real. **

**Next, this is just a part of a bigger series. Every character from the Marauder saga is going to have their own fic. Each will be tailored in setting and style to its character. They aren't going to be published together, because that would give away secrets you aren't ready to know yet. They will be staggered, and completely out of sequence. **

**Last, there will be countless music references if you know how to spot them. Music is my inspiration for everything, but there are too many songs to mention and half of them only make sense in relation to the story inside my own mind. If I happen to say a line from a song word for word, I will give credit. Other than that you have to find them for yourself. It'll be like a treasure hunt! I'm even thinking of offering previews to those that can.**

**Lastly, there will be brutal topics. Yes, topics, not scenes. I say brutal because I can't tell you what they are, but I'm sure that you have an idea. There's a reason it's PG-13. It's not enough to make you queasy or uncomfortable, just sad. But if don't want to read about such things, don't read.**

**Now that we've got that unpleasantness out of the way, here's your story.**

Chapter 1  
Are You Ready?

Sometimes my emotions take over. In fact, it happens to me a lot. It's not by choice, or even by necessity. It just happens. Like right now.

The dappled sunlight falling from the train windows doesn't reflect the mood in the air at all. There's an angry electricity here that seems somehow out of place in the prefect compartment. I feel like I'm doing something wrong by getting into a fight here.

"How did you get this position?" I can feel the words spilling out of my mouth before I'm able to gain control of them. But that's how it goes. It's not that I hate James. He can actually be a pretty decent bloke when he tries. It's just that I've worked _so hard_ to achieve this, and what did he do? Smiled that charming smile of his, cracked a few jokes and now everyone loves him.

He's that guy everyone wants to be, and he knows it. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he knows it. If he just had to work at something for once, I'd be much more inclined to be a bit more courteous to him. But he doesn't have to work for anything, ever. It makes me furious.

He turns around and without a hitch answers, "Pure talent and undeniable leadership ability." I could just strangle him right now.

When I was heading towards the prefect compartment today, I was just fine. I was ecstatic, even. I felt powerful and in control. I was flying high, on cloud nine, whatever you want to call it. I had finally achieved the goal I had been working towards for six years. Six freaking, bloody _years_. Then I walked in to find James here, his body draped across a chair like he owned the place, flirting with a couple of fifth years. Every move of his hand and flicker of his smile said that he was in control. He looked just as cool and confident as I'd felt three seconds before. It made me sick. Physically sick. But I held it together, and faced my demons. I'm rather proud of how I handled the whole thing, even if I scared a few of the younger prefects. For the most part, I stayed in control of my emotions and took care of business. I was in control.

Until now.

"Your rich Daddy bribed the school governors, didn't he? Or did you just threaten a few of them?" I can't keep it in. It's like my brain has lost it's function to filter my words. I'm glaring at him like there's no tomorrow and he's the reason. He, on the other hand, isn't taking the bait.

I'll admit this is a bit stupid of me. Here I am, Head Girl, and the first thing I do is start a fight. What a brilliant idea. At least there's no one here to witness it.

The second we released the prefects, to go patrol the train, every single one of them bolted. I can't really blame them. I would've bolted too at seeing myself. Even if I was much more in control than I am now. I can be terrifying when I'm angry. I can't even imagine what they must think of me.

"My Dad wouldn't bribe anyone. And the school governors don't have anything to do with picking the Heads." He seems exasperated, like he expected this, or has already been through it, or he just thinks I'm stupid.

I brush off the embarrassment. It's rather easy to do. Things like this happen all the time. I thought it made sense that the school governors would have a say in the student leadership. James makes it sound like only an idiot would think they do, and I am _not_ an idiot. Him acting like I am makes that boiling heat rise up from my stomach again. Nothing good has ever come from that feeling.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot. You're Dumbledore's favorite. You wouldn't need any help getting a position you don't deserve."

"I did _not_ get this position because I'm Dumbledore's favorite!"

I raise an eyebrow and give him my best why-did-you-just-let-me-best-you look.

"That's not what I meant to say."

"Oh, come on, James. We all know that he favors you. Though why he chose you to dote upon like a son is beyond me." As I say this, James is advancing on me. He has that fevered gleam in his eyes that few ever see. It takes a lot to make James _that_ angry. He's usually so cool and collected. It scares me, but I won't let him see that. I will _not _be intimidated.

"I'll have you know," he says, a little too close for comfort right now, and I don't like his finger in my face, either, "that I worked very hard to get where I am."

"By doing what, practicing your smile in front of the mirror?"

"You know as well as I do that I don't practice my smile in front of the mirror. I've never been _that_ pompous."

"Oh, that's right, you don't have to. I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment that you're perfect." I've entered that insanity mode. Anything I do or say now can not be held against me. I'm so brilliantly angry that I don't think I could control myself if I tried.

"Why are you so angry with me?" His eyes search my face, as if looking for the answer there. Well, you're not going to find it, mate. "It's not like I'm hurting you. And we both know that I wouldn't shirk my responsibilities because--"

"Of course. You wouldn't get the limelight that way."

I can see the anger boiling up inside of him. It scares me a bit, not knowing how to handle him in this mood. His stance, the set of his jaw, the cold glint of his eyes, his fury is practically oozing out of him like the lava of a volcano, incinerating everything in its path.

"I didn't have to bribe or threaten anyone, especially Dumbledore. I got the position out of talent and aptitude. At least," that evil little smile he now has on his face makes me very uncomfortable, "I haven't spent the last six years sucking up to show everyone that I could get somewhere in life despite obviously lacking the talent."

I can feel the anger pumping into my blood, coursing through my body. He's not going to walk away from this in one piece.

"Oh, that's right. You're Dumbledore's favorite, aren't you? You only have to suck up to one person. But that must take all of your cunning to achieve. You probably wouldn't be able to do any more than that, anyway. I'll be sure to remember that in the future."

"I DID NOT GET THIS POSITION BECAUSE I'M DUMBLEDORE'S FAVORITE!" I could almost swear that the train shook a little more than usual just now. Or was it just me exaggerating it? "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"So you really are finally admitting it. Pity, we all had a good laugh at you trying to deny it all that while."

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID!"

I walk over to the water table and get a glass. I know. Water table on a train? It's one of those fold-out ones that you can put back up into the wall. And I swear that it must be magically enhanced, because I've never even seen the water even shake in my last two years as prefect.

As I pour the water, I can see him advancing on me out of the corner of my eye. I stay calm as he approaches. Cool as a cucumber. Cool as a cucumber, but I'm boiling on the inside. I turn when he's only a few inches away from me, and our faces are almost touching. Brilliant timing, Lily. Couldn't you have turned around a little sooner so his nose _wasn't_ almost touching yours? I can see the loss of control in his eyes; I can see that he's capable of anything. It terrifies me.

A few moments of tension-filled silence linger in the air, and then he turns away. He grips his hair and lets out a frustrated scream. He takes a moment to stare at the wall. Then he turns to me with that grin back in place, and I know this can't be good. "That's right, _Lily_." I don't like the way he says my name. It sounds dirty. "I had to have done something, bribed someone, so that I could get this position. I mean how else would I have gotten it?" He walked back up to me, so close that our bodies are almost touching again. I would back away, but there's nowhere to go--I'm backed against the table. "Because we all know that you can't possibly get the Head position unless you give something back. Say, hand out _favors_ to some school governors, maybe even a few teachers, so they'd put in a good word to Dumbledore for you."

I can't even _believe_ what he just implied. "Now you listen to me, Potter--"

"Why should I? You never have anything good to say. But maybe you just don't get the chance to talk much. What with all of those favors."

I could kill him, I really could. But he's not worth life in Azkaban. "You are the most despicable excuse for a human being that I've ever met. How you get anyone to like you is beyond me."

"Is it, Lily?" I didn't think it was possible for his body to get even closer to mine without touching, but he's managed to do it. James bloody Potter always manages to do it. It doesn't matter what _it_ is.

"You're friends don't deserve you."

"Been hanging around my friends, Lily?" He doesn't miss a beat. I though that insult would carry more impact. "Run out of other people to put up with you?"

If he would just back away from me, I would be able to think. But panic is overwhelming me. It must be clearly written on my face by now. Would James Potter really be capable of doing anything to me? I should be able to tell. I can always tell. But…oh Merlin, the panic. My eyes dart away from his for a moment and to the door. It's not too far. If he tries anything, I can just kick him and probably make it to the door before he catches me.

"Afraid of me, Lily? Are you afraid of what I might do to you?" He leans into my face, but then he backs away, giving me plenty of room to escape.

"Run, Evans, if you're afraid." He's turned so that I can't see his face.

"I'm not afraid of you. You don't hold any power over me." But I move away. He does have power. Undeniable amounts of it.

I can see his face now. He's moved just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He looks like he's almost regretting what he's said. The blind anger is gone from his eyes and he almost looks a bit hurt. It's his own fault. "Look, Lily, we've never been friends, but we've never gotten into a fight like this--"

"No, but you've never stolen what mine before." I fold my arms and lean against the table, looking away from him.

He stares at me in silence for a bit. Does he have to do that? "Is that why you're mad? I didn't _steal _anything from you, Evans! You're still Head Girl."

"What you've done is belittle my work. You never work for anything. _Ever! _ You make me sick."

"Is that what you really think of me?" The anger is back, but it's ice cold. The sound of his voice makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket to warm up.

"Why would I say it if I didn't really think so?" But I have said plenty I didn't really mean today, many things I don't believe to be true.

"I guess Remus and Sirius were wrong about you. You're not worth my time."

_What?_ Remus and Sirius tried to convince _him_ to give _me_ a chance? I didn't know I was that close to them. I spend time with them in class, but other than that . . . I have plenty of friends, too many, in fact. I don't need them trying to pawn another one off on me, especially when it's James Potter. Why would they do that? Does James really hate me enough to ignore his friends' recommendations? And that's exactly what they are, recommendations for friendship. I'm torn between not wanting him to listen to Sirius and Remus, and being scandalized that he doesn't want to himself.

"Fine! If I'm not worth your time, then I'll just leave."

I storm out, not giving him the chance to retort. The double doors slam against the walls of the train when I throw them open. The resounding _crack_ is enough to make we wince, but I don't stop.

The girls that James was talking up earlier are giggling outside. "What are you doing? Go patrol!" They run away as fast as they can, down the corridor and, I believe, straight into the loo. Wonderful. Great way to start the year, Lily.

* * *

When I was six I told my Mum that I wanted to grow up to be the Queen of England. She told me that one day, it just might happen. At the time, I thought that Mum was trying to humor me, not really believing in me. I didn't know how the monarchy really works. I thought it was easy to be the Queen. We'd certainly had enough of them. Now, I know that she was really putting absolute faith in me. I don't have very many memories from that age, but this one really stands out. It's just one of those things. There were certainly more impressive forms of my parents' faith in me, but this one I remember the best. Maybe it's because it turned out to be an act of faith when I thought it was the lack thereof. It's funny how things change as you learn more about the world.

When I was accepted into Hogwarts, my parents didn't hesitate to send me. That is, after they were convinced that wizards were real, Hogwarts was a real school, and it wasn't just a very elaborate hoax to hustle money out of them.

I remember Mum asking me to answer the door one night because she was busy baking. She always loved to bake. It was raining. I opened the door to a slightly pudgy, small woman with a beautiful smile. She had blue eyes and wore a brown plaid coat and hat. She was shaking out her umbrella on our stoop and didn't notice me at first. I could be very stealthy in my youth. I remember watching as she shook out the umbrella, rather vigorously, and brushed some rain off her jacket. When she saw that I was standing in the doorway watching her, she smiled and asked, in the sweetest voice, if she could speak to my parents. I shut the door without a word, leaving her out on the stoop. I don't quite know why.

They talked for a really long time. The woman and my parents. I don't know how long it was, because I was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation and there weren't any clocks in our hallway.

After what seemed like forever, they called me in. Mum told me to sit between Dad and her, and they both turned to the Lady expectantly, so I turned to her too. She told me that her name was Gilda Worhawk, and that she was from a very special school to tell me that I had been accepted.

I sat there, unsure of what to say. After it was clear that I would say nothing, she went on to tell me that it was a school for very special children who have very special abilities. I thought she meant a superhero school. I asked, "Does this have something to do with me floating the cookie yesterday?" My parents explained to her that I had floated a cookie behind Mum's back after she had taken them away from me, saying that I would spoil my dinner. The woman smiled and said, "Yes . . . yes, it does."

I don't really remember the rest of the night so well.

When it came time to leave for Hogwarts, I was absolutely terrified. I remember being so nervous I was shaking. But when it came time to board the train, Mum bent down and told me that I was her miracle. I could do anything I wanted and no one was going to stop me. That was the most important thing my Mum ever told me. I'd bet she doesn't even remember it.

During the first eleven years of my life, I was bullied relentlessly. When I went to school the first day, there was a kid that was repeating. He wanted to assert his authority, and I was the target he picked. I was small and weak, a perfect target. After that, there was no hope. I was doomed. I rarely ate enough lunch. By the time they were done taking what they wanted there would usually only be an apple or some orange slices left. At least I developed a rather healthy taste for fruit. I would take the really good treats out before I got to class and put them in my pockets. Quite often they would pull my hair and steal my pencils. My Mum thought I was just forgetful and I kept losing things. I never told anyone that I was being bullied. I thought that somehow that would give them power.

The other kids were afraid to befriend me. So I spent most of my time at school alone. It gave me more time to concentrate on my schoolwork at any rate. After a while, I noticed that I could answer the teachers' questions when the others had no idea. It gave me pride and made me want to work harder. Eventually, the other kids began to resent me. The more questions I answered, the more they took from me and the harder they hit. But I let it happen, because I had something they couldn't take away. I was smarter than them.

The teachers would say things like, "Why can't you all be more like Lily?" It infuriated them. I would just beam, knowing that they would retaliate later. I didn't care.

When I got to Hogwarts, I found that I had a natural talent with magic. This talent, coupled with my brilliant study habits, made the other kids seek to befriend me. I became popular, when I had never been before. I was a social butterfly. My confidence soared. Things like my trademark anger-management issues started to come out, because I was no longer afraid of what others would do to me if I yelled at them. I could just curse them, and no one would blame me, no one would stand up for them because I was the girl they wanted to side with. I didn't go against these kids because it gave me kicks. I did it in defense of others. I wasn't about to let anyone be treated the way I was. I had power, and I was ready and more than willing to use it. I began to enjoy power, to enjoy people listening to me.

It didn't take me long to see that the students that got the most respect were the prefects. I wanted so badly to prove Mum right. I wanted to make my parents proud more than anything. I wanted the respect of my peers. So I worked harder than anyone else. I worked myself to my limit, and earned the respect of both my peers and my teachers. Some, such as James, believed me to be a suck-up. But I had learned long ago to ignore people like that. I would much rather live up to my family's expectations than James Potter's.

When I became a prefect, my parents were so proud. They bought me things, took me out to dinner. I was their greatest achievement. I wanted to do even more for them. I wanted to live up to their ever-growing expectations. I wanted to be perfect in their eyes, because I would never be in anyone else's, especially my own.

So I decided to become Head Girl. By then, I had enough experience with pure-bloods to have an alternative motivation. I wanted to shove it in their faces that a Muggle-born witch could best them. I wanted to be the one they could never beat, the one that haunted their dreams. They reminded me of the kids in my elementary classes that bullied me, and I wanted to knock them off the pedestal they'd built for themselves.

I worked myself to exhaustion more than once. I worked as hard as I could, pushing myself to my limit, and beating it.

All this time, James floated through life. He breezed through every one of his classes. I rarely saw him studying. He didn't care. He spent his time playing around and bullying, just like those kids that made my life miserable. Oh, I wasn't blind to his good attributes. I knew what he could be like at both ends of the spectrum. James has never been in the middle of any continuum, but always at the extremes. I just couldn't forgive him for potential.

When I saw him in the compartment today, with that badge on his chest, I wanted to cry, or kill him. It was one of the worst moments of my life.

I can feel the tears in my throat as I search for an empty compartment. Stupid James. He keeps finding ways to ruin my life without even knowing it.

* * *

I can't find an empty compartment. Whenever I want to be alone, the universe finds a way to force me to interact with others. I do that enough already. So I find a compartment with a couple of second years in it. Two second years shouldn't have a compartment to themselves. Three might be okay, but two is unacceptable. So I make them leave.

I spend the rest of the train ride feeling guilty for making those kids leave and melancholy from my fight with James. It's that empty melancholy feeling that makes you feel like crying for no reason at all. I hate that feeling.

Soon enough, someone finds me. Sara comes in and sits on the other wall of the compartment, not saying a word. She just sits there, eating a couple of Cauldron Cakes that she no doubt got from the food trolley lady – as it's barely one, I'm sure she's still at the front of the train – who she has an abnormally close relationship with, and waits for me to talk first. Sara, with her funny accent and deceptively angelic face, is one of my good friends. Oh, and did I mention her ungodly metabolism? It's unnatural.

A few words about Sara, to get them out of the way: Her mother is from America. The Baker family runs a plantation in Georgia and is treated as wizarding royalty. Apparently, most of the plantations in the southern states are run by wizards. Who knew? Sara spent the first nine years of her life being treated as the Almighty Ruler of Everything, as she's the sole heir of the entire plantation and all of her family's finances as her Mum is an only child and she's the only child of her generation.

Her Dad was with some kind of International Division of the Ministry when he met her mother, Somewhere around her ninth birthday, Sara's parents decided that she needed to get away from the practical royalty thing and moved to England, where her Dad rejoined the Ministry. This move didn't do Sara much good in the way of making her more humble, but I admire their efforts. She travels back to America every year for the summer, back to the family plantation. There she is treated like the Queen. Only not, because they're Americans and, therefore, do not have a Queen. Because of both her Mum and her yearly trips back to Georgia, she has the oddest accent I've ever heard. She says things like Darlin' and bloody in the same sentence. She's the single most stabilizing force in my world. Sara will always be Sara.

She's a wild, thrill-seeking soul who carries herself with the innate grace of a Queen and eats all the time. She runs every morning and never is low on energy. Not that this energy is particularly evident. It's more like a controlled, focused force that you don't notice at first, but only after years of being around her. We're not inseparable or anything. We don't even spend most of our time together. We confide in each other when needed, but we're not close. I guess if you had to go that far, you could call her my best friend. I have so many people that call themselves my friends that I find it hard to get too close to one without alienating another.

Before long, I can't stand the silence anymore. I have to say something.

"James Potter is Head Boy."

She licks the cream from her fingers. "So I've heard." She then pulls out a couple of Chocolate Frogs and hands one to me. "I also heard about the screaming, running off, yelling at the fifth year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects and you kicking out the second years from this compartment."

I wince. Does she have to bring that up? "There wasn't really that much screaming. At least, not as much as there could have been."

She laughs. "Lily, if there is one thing I've learned from being your friend, it's that there can always be more screaming."

I smile at that. The remnants of my melancholy won't tolerate anything more.

"Sara, why does he always have to ruin my life?" The chocolate is beginning to make me feel better, give me more energy.

"Because you think he does. He's not trying to, Lily. The two of you are like clashing Titans. Everything in your path is destroyed."

Is it really? I never thought to look back. I must have a rather stricken expression on my face, because Sara laughs. "It's a metaphor, Lily. Don't take it to heart. You didn't ruin any lives by fighting with James. I've checked."

She hands me another frog, and we spend the rest of the trip in relative silence. It's comforting.

* * *

When I go out to supervise the unloading, I'm ready to face James. The fierce determination is back in my veins. I'd like to tell you that my face is set in a fiercely determined look, but I really don't know. I hope it is. I _really_ hope it is.

After a few minuets, I feel James come up behind me. For a while, we just stand there, acting civil and directing the students. We're pretty good at acting, if I do say so myself. The platform is filled with sounds and smells, and in the flurry of activity, no one notices James lean towards my ear. He's out of my range of sight, but far from out of my field of sense. His closeness makes me anxious, but I don't move.

"Are you ready for this?" The feeling of his breath on my ear as he whispers makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But I will _not_ let him intimidate me.

"Are _you_?"

I can feel him smile, as if mocking me. He laughs. The fact that I'm standing up for myself makes him laugh.I could strangle him right now. I _really_ could. "You might want to watch out, Lily. It would be unwise to underestimate me."

My spine freezes. "Are you threatening me, James?"

"Take it however you want, Lily. I'm not backing down."

"Good. I never liked winning without a challenge

He laughs agian. "You're funny, Lily." His laugh makes me recoil. "We'll see who wins in the end."

And then he walks away, straight into one of the waiting cariages.

* * *

**I hope you stick with me. We're going to have fun torturing these people. And before you get angry and defensive as you continue to read this story, remember that you haven't heard the other characters' versions of events.**


	3. The Wiles of a Rose

**I meant for thise chapter to be up a lot sooner than this. Sorry. And I'm also sorry for those of you that have me on your alerts, the five emails you were sent last time and who knows how many this time. The site does something screwy to my document every time I try to update. I'll work it out soon. I hope.**

**I'm sorry if this chapter feels like a filler. It does to me, at least. There's no other way to go about the story, and I'd rather get on with it. So, here it is.**

Chapter 2

The Wiles of a Rose

The strangest thing about being a Muggle-born is that I have two completely different worlds.

I feel like a different person here than I do at home. It's not that my personality is any different, I don't think. I just_ feel_ different. I feel freer, more spontaneous, as if it's okay to be that way here. I feel like I'm someone other people care about. Here, I'm someone others seek out to talk to. I love my family, but they're not enough for me. I need _life_. I find that here at Hogwarts.

Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, I feel as if I'd never left for the summer. The girl that went home to her family is a different person. We're just alike, but she lives there and I live here. Simple as that.

"Morning." Sara is hidden behind her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as I take the seat opposite her. The sleek, black top of her head is the only thing I can see.

"Morning. How was your run?" I grab the toast and jam, then some bacon and a little bit of eggs. I was never terribly fond of them, but I eat them anyway. They're a required breakfast food.

"Brilliant. McGonagall has already come by." She hands me my schedule from behind her paper.

I've got Ancient Runes first, then Arithmancy, History, a break and Defense. I groan. It's one of those long, drawn-out groans, and clearly expresses my immense level of frustration to anyone in the near vicinity.

"What is it?" Sara looks at me for the first time that morning, her angelic face popping out with concern written all over it.

"I've got the most exhausting Monday in the history of human existence." I lay my head on the cool wood of the table and blindly reach over it to hand her my schedule. I can feel the groves worn into the wood with time against my cheek as I stare at the empty plate to my left. "Just my luck. My worst day is a Monday."

"Well, I only have one class." She can't be right. Surely that's not possible. She's only taking two less classes than me, and I'm taking eight. I snap my head back up and steal her schedule from the side of her plate with a lightning fast motion that would make a professional Quidditch captain proud. Sure enough, one class is recorded on her schedule for Monday: Defense, the last class of the day.

I throw it back at her. She grins around her paper; her midnight blue eyes looking like she'd spilled glitter in them. "Jealous?"

I don't answer her. I just stick my chin in my fist and pout. This isn't fair.

"Someone's moody this morning." Trish sits down next to me. I don't look at her. I bet she only has one class, too.

Patricia, or Trish, is tall and athletic, with a wicked smile and fairer features than she wants. She shaved her head in 4th year because the Quidditch team dared her to if they won the cup. They did. No surprise there--they've only lost once since third year. Trish's platinum hair had been short and choppy ever since it grew back out.

"She's just jealous. She's got her hardest day today." Sara's back behind the paper again.

I turn to Trish and point at Sara in the most accusing way I know. "She has one class! One bleeding class!" I know I'm acting childish. I don't care. _One class!_ And I'm allowed to be a little childish sometimes, aren't I? I think I deserve a little indulgence.

Sara hands Trish her schedule without a word about my outburst. Things like this are far too common to be noteworthy.

"Oh, fancy that. I've only got one, too." Trish says it as if it's nothing.

I glare at her with as much hate as I can muster for someone I like.

"What?"

Oh, don't play innocent with me, Trish. Even if you're absolutely brilliant at it.

"I know it doesn't seem fair to you, Lily, but that's what happens when you take eight NEWTs classes. I, on the other hand, only have five. And Sara has six. It's perfectly plausible that we would only have one class on a certain day."

"Lily, look." Sara tries to hand me her schedule, but I just glare, so she gives up. "I have class every period tomorrow. It's just the luck of the draw."

"Lily, I'm sure you have a break at some point in the week." She takes my schedule at looks it over. And looks it over some more. "Oh." She tires to stop the laugh at my expense, but fails miserably. "I'm sorry, Lily."

"I hate you both." I snatch my schedule from her and push away from the table. "I'm going to _class_. You know that place where you learn things? You two have fun being lazy _bums_." They laugh at me as I walk away.

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"Morning, Lily."

As usual, when I walk into Ancient Runes, Sirius is already there – doing nothing. He's leaning his poor chair on its two back legs with his hands behind his head, balancing with his feet on the table. It's an incredibly typical Sirius pose. There is nothing on his desk. He never once has bothered to prepare for class. I've contemplated asking him why before, but I have too much fun watching him frantically search through all his stuff for what he needs. And, never fail, he manages to have to borrow my quill minimum of once a week. That's on a good week. And, twenty minutes later, he will always find it while rifling through his bag for a bare bit of parchment to write himself a note.

"Morning, Sirius." I, however, immediately begin to get my things out for class. "How was your summer?"

"Brilliant. I got my own place, actually."

"That's wonderful."

This class, and Sirius, never fails to cheer me up. It's strange, but before we had this class together, I never spent any time with him at all. Now, he's a vital part of my life. Not that I ever see him out of class, but I still can't imagine my life without him in it. His personality adds so much color to everything it touches. It's like when color movies came out. No one knew what they were missing until they saw it in color.

"Yeah, a quiet summer alone was just what I needed." Quiet? Sirius? Oxymoron? I know he's lying, but I let it slide. It would be a direct violation of Rule number three to confront him about it.

Speaking of which, there are Rules that govern mine and Sirius's relationship. Not that he knows about them. I made them up one day in class when I was bored. There's a copy of them in some stack of Ancient Runes notes somewhere. He's never violated them, so I didn't see the point in informing him about them. The rules are as follows:

1. Our relationship outside of class shall remain strictly that of two classmates. Friendship will remain within the walls of this classroom.  
2. We will never discuss our respective friends unless they are casually mentioned during the course of our conversation.  
3. Topics for discussion shall remain strictly trivial. Such as our favorite flavor of ice cream. At no point in time shall the conversation turn to any topic which is profound, morbid, or anything that will make the other party at all uncomfortable.

These rules allow this class to be my haven. Here, I can get away from the world and smile. Sirius has never failed to make me smile when I need it.

"Why did you move out?" Notice how I oh, so cleverly skirted around mentioning James? The Rules in action, that is.

Last summer, Sirius had moved out of his own house and into the Potters. His own family treats him like Petunia treats me, out of place and useless. It just goes to show you that prejudice exist everywhere. Apparently, they're the type of wizards that would be furious if they knew Sirius and I were talking right now. I imagine he initially took Muggle Studies just to get to them. But the fact that he is still taking it shows that he really does care.

"It was time I stopped imposing. They needed family time after the year they've been having." I desperately want to ask what he's talking about. Obviously, I'm supposed to know. But I don't ask him, because that would be treading dangerously close to violating The Rules.

Before I can say anything else, Professor Minks comes in and starts the lecture the moment she can be heard. Just like always, Sirius begins to search through his random bag of crap for the things he needs for notes. I get out an extra quill for him.

"Hey Lily, can I borrow a quill?"

I stand in the doorway of Arithmancy, trying to decide what to do. Remus is sitting at a table in the middle, preparing for class. But after learning what he is, I don't know if I can sit with him.

Before Sara dropped Arithmancy this year, we would always share a table with Remus. I know that Remus is still the same person he was before I found out he was a werewolf, but that doesn't stop my instincts from telling me to run far, far away, very fast.

Just before exams last year, Sara and I had been leaving the Great Hall after a late supper when we walked out into the Entrance Hall to find none other than James Potter stumbling into the castle dragging Severus Snape, who was passed out with his arm slung over James's shoulder. There was blood everywhere. James looked like he was about to go any second, too. We helped them both to the Hospital Wing. I almost wish we had left them there, because then I wouldn't be here deciding this. But we stayed, and we found out that Remus is a werewolf.

I don't quite know how to tell you how I felt then. Sara just brushed it off. She acted like it never happened. But I still can't get it out of my head. Remus Lupin is a _werewolf_.

I spot Cleo, Darius, and Stephen in the back corner getting out their things and laughing at some joke. They're all Ravenclaws, and we've been casual friends for as long as I can remember. Cleo and Darius are twins. It's something that I am coming to find is much more prevalent in the magical world than in the Muggle one. I personally think they're both seers, but they continue to deny that either of them has ever _seen_. They know too much for it to be mere coincidence. The tables are made for three, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I squeezed in with them.

"Excuse me, Lily." I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Eliza Hawthorn, a Hufflepuff prefect.

"Oh, sorry, Eliza." I move out of her way.

"That's alright." She looks at me a bit oddly, but moves on without saying anything else.

I can't decide if I have to courage to ignore my instincts and sit beside Remus. I'm a chicken, I know.

"Scared to sit with me, Lily?" He doesn't look at me when I take the seat beside him.

"You knew I was in the doorway."

He doesn't answer, but I catch a contemptuous look in his eyes when he glances in my direction. He must be furious. Remus never acts this way.

"Well, I'm sitting here, aren't I?" The words are much snappier coming out of my mouth than they were in my head. As soon as I say it, I know I shouldn't have. He's angry, and I got defensive. So sue me.

"It's the fact that you had to think about it that upsets me." He looks at me in a searching way that makes me want to look away. It's amazing how his eyes can be both imploring and furious. It's like a glaring light that's so bright you have to shield your eyes from it just to be able to see. When he speaks, his voice is impatient and earnest. "I'm still the same. I haven't changed."

"I know. It's just . . ." I can't look at him, so I look down at my hands. ". . . _hard_." His disappointment is too much.

I can feel him staring at me as I begin to get out my things for class. I can feel those searching eyes boring into me, trying to find my secrets.

"Of course, how can I blame you? It's not your fault that you suddenly developed a new aversion to me after finding out. Something I can't control scares you. How can I blame you for deserting me? You're scared."

"It's not like that--"

"It's exactly like that, Lily." His voice turns suddenly harsh and gritty, assaulting me with the tones as well as the words. It reminds me of the fight on the train with James.

There's nothing for me to dsy, not after that.

Can't Professor Vector be on time for once? This charged silence is killing me. I hurt him. To think that the hurt boy beside me is the same as a creature that would kill me as soon as look at me is frightening, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

I turn to him with tears in my eyes, wanting so badly for him to understand. I want to think of him as Remus, but I can't get the monster out of my head. "Remus, I'm sorry."

I don't know if he's going to answer me. He seems to be deciding if he will. But then, he sighs and looks down at the open book in front of him.

"I know."

I look at him, at his sad, dejected face, and I want to cry. I want to say something, but there's nothing to say.

"Alright class, get out the essays you were assigned over the summer and hand them in." Professor Vector always was one for the worst possible timing. You'd think an Arithmancy professor would be better at it.

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I spend my break leaning against the wall in the courtyard and watching everyone else. The summer is still ripe in the air and there's a light breeze coming in from the grounds. Everyone is laughing and happy. It seems so wrong that people have to suffer when they could be happy, just because someone else ruined their life. But I still can't get the image of Remus ripping me apart out of my head.

When I close my eyes, I can see him transforming. I can see him picking me up, ripping off my limbs and crushing my skull. Worse, I can see him doing it to a younger student, who has even less chance of defending themselves. I see it when I look at his face, when I hear his name. I can't get it out of my head.

"Alright, Lily?" Trish leans up against the wall beside me in the courtyard.

"Not exactly." I'm being snappy with her. I know I shouldn't. It's not her fault I'm a horrible person.

"What's wrong?"

I give her a sideways, pleading look. I can't tell you, Trish. I'm sorry. _Please_ don't ask me to. She seems to get it.

"Alright. I won't ask."

We lapse into silence, which Trish was never very good at. She's not a loud or obnoxious person. In fact, she's pretty quiet for an outgoing Quidditch player. But she needs to talk. She's uncomfortable with silence. "How was your summer?" What did I tell you?

"Atrocious. Petunia has this new boyfriend she's bound and determined to shove down everyone's throat. I swear I saw him at least once a week, and _I_ was trying to avoid the two of them. We had this scare where we thought Dad might have been having a heart attack, and then Mum lost the neighborhood baking contest to this new woman. She moped for a week—"

"So your Dad is okay then? It was just a scare?" Her genuine concern warms my heart and calms me. It kind of puts things into perspective, thinking about Dad.

"Yeah. It was just a normal thing. I don't even remember what it was. I was just so relieved to know he wasn't going to die." I can feel that lump growing in my throat. You know, the one that lets you know to get a hold of yourself because you're about to cry?

"Good. I like him. He needs to stick around."

I give a bit of a watery laugh. "Yeah. I like him, too."

She turns to me with wide eyes. "Lily, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no. It's alright. I'm just a bit stressed." I wipe the tear that threatens to escape from my eyelash and take a steadying breath.

"You sure?" She looks so scared, like she's ruined my life by telling me that she likes my Dad.

"Yeah. Completely." I smile at her, and actually feel it. Her concern makes me smile.

"Alright. I have to go – I'm supposed to be running an errand – but are we going to meet for lunch?" Trish and I always meet for lunch on the days we both have breaks afterwards. Even though she shares a dorm with me, we rarely talk outside of the time we put aside to meet. We're both so busy that we're never really ever in the same room by chance except to sleep.

"Of course. I'll meet you in the common room after History."

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After break, I feel much calmer.

History is one of those classes that most students run as far away from as possible. I happen to like it. There's something about knowing how your world came to be the way it is that intrigues me, especially since I'm a Muggle-born. It's like Muggle Studies is for pure-bloods. Only, I'm a Muggle-born, and this is History of Magic.

There are only a handful of other students still in the class, mostly Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, three Slytherins, and James Potter. Since there are so few students in such a large classroom, we can disperse ourselves throughout the room. There's no one around me for at least five feet. I get to be alone here.

Today we're talking about troll wars. It makes me think of those little dolls with the fluorescent hair fighting each other. Despite how much I try, all I can see is a little girl setting up little troll armies and crashing them into each other as she giggles manically in the background, like a Goddess looking out over the battlefield.

Before I came to Hogwarts, I loved those dolls. I remember playing with them when I was a kid and wishing they could be real so that I could have friends. Friends with fluorescent hair. I'm busy drawing one of them on my paper when a shadow crosses over it. I look up to find James standing above me. Brilliant. What does he want?

"Yes?"

"Class is over."

I look around. Sure enough, the class is empty except for the two of us. "Oh."

There is no way to describe my level of embarrassment right now. "When did that happen?"

He looks like he wants to laugh, but he doesn't. Thank Merlin for small favors. "A few minutes ago. You were busy drawing that thing on your paper."

"It's a troll." I begin to shove everything in my bag. The sooner I can get away from him, the better.

"I doesn't look like any troll I've ever seen."

"That's because you're not a Muggle." I stand up and leave as quickly as possible. After that fight on the train, I don't want to be within twenty feet of him. It was humiliating enough once. But for it to happen on a regular basis? I'd rather not. And I still haven't forgiven him. That only means that I won't be able to control myself.

"Evans!" He chases me out the door, and I can't just ignore him. I'd _really_ like to, I would. But what kind of Head Girl would I be if I just ignore the Head Boy because we got into a fight and he makes me uncomfortable? A cowardly, bad one, that's what.

So I turn around to face him, clutching my books to my chest as if they'll protect me. "Yes, James?"

"I'd like to say that those things I said on the train, about you giving out favors and sucking up because you're not qualified. . . ." Great apology so far, James, I have to tell you. "I didn't mean them."

I stare at him for a while. He stares back.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?"

I blink at him a couple of times. "No."

I've turned away and am walking down the hallway when he shouts, "EVANS!"

"Fine!" I turn around to face him again. "I'm sorry, okay!" I hate apologizing. It always makes me feel so inadequate. I'd much rather just bottle it all up.

"I'm sorry for saying you didn't deserve the position and that your Daddy had to bribe or threaten so that you could get it." Students are coming down the corridor, but if I don't get this out now I think I'll just explode. I feel like I might be shouting a little more than necessary, too.

"I'm sorry for saying that you're Dumbledore's favorite, for implying that you were because you sucked up, and that you didn't have any more cunning to do any more of it. I'm sorry for saying that you only want the position because you want the limelight and that you practice your smile in front of the mirror. I'm sorry for saying that you were the most despicable human being I've ever met, and that you don't deserve your friends. I'm sorry, okay!"

There are a lot of people watching now. Remus, Sirius, and Peter are all standing behind James, looking at me like I've grown a dozen tentacles.

Dear Merlin.

His face is so . . . distraught? His mouth is hanging slightly open so that I can see a glimpse of his perfect teeth. Stupid James and his stupid perfect teeth. But his eyes are what get me. They're a bit disbelieving and more than a little hurt. I can't believe I just said those things. And in front of all these people. I think I might have just crossed a line I can't get back from.

"I've got to go." I shove past James with my head down. He doesn't even move his head as I pass. I can feel Remus and Sirius staring at me as I pass them too, but I don't look up. I can't even imagine the looks they're giving me.

No one's even whispering. Usually there's whispering in situations like these, right?

I keep my head down as I head toward Gryffindor Tower and away from the crowd heading to lunch. They must all think I've lost it. I think I might have.

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Trish is waiting for me in the Common Room with a cheery expression. "Hey, Lily."

I try to put one on, too. "Hey. I never got to ask how your summer was." She doesn't notice the absence of any kind of caring in my voice.

She shrugs before answering. "Average. Quidditch, family meals, eccentric relatives; nothing new."

Trish is almost a pure-blood. Her grandmother on one side has some Muggle in her, but her family is powerful enough that everyone tries to ignore it. A family dinner with that lot is a circus. They're the most wonderful wizarding family I've ever met.

"Today has been absolutely exhausting." I drop my bag on a random table and we turn to the portrait hole. "And it's only lunch."

"Mine's not been that bad." I have to bite down a scathing retort. Trish doesn't deserve to bear the brunt of my ill mood. "Sara and I wandered around the castle until McGonagall sent us out on some errands to keep us busy. She's not done with hers yet, so she won't be at lunch. Were your classes really that bad?"

"It's not the classes that are exhausting me."

"Head Girl duties getting to you?"

"It's not that either."

The hallways are unnaturally hot for Hogwarts. I'm busy taking my robes off when she asks, "Then what is?"

"Oh, people in general." I let my robe drag along the ground from my hand. I don't really care.

Her face lights up in a way that it shouldn't be doing. She's obviously heard about the train. I preempt her. "No, it's not that either."

"Lily, I don't have your clairvoyant abilities. You're going to have to tell me."

"Maybe I don't want you to know." I snap the words a bit, but she lets it slide. She's wise enough not to press when I'm like this.

Since my first day in Divination, it has been known to everyone that took the class that I am slightly clairvoyant. Trish, like me, took it until NEWT level. Professor Clemmons made it well known that I had the ability of intuitive sense, but that I would never be able to advance any farther than my meager natural abilities. She would go on and on about how I didn't have control and that my inner eye had ADD. I dropped divination as soon as I could and still save face. I hate that woman.

When we walk into the Great Hall, lunch is already well under way. As soon as we sit down, Trish goes into a long rant about Quidditch, and the team's chances to win the cup this year. I like the game well enough, but not _that_ much. But she hardly ever talks about Quidditch at these lunches, so I just sit back and let her get it out of her system. At any rate, it gives me time to think.

Between my issues with Remus and James, and the nagging feeling in the back of my mind about what must have driven Sirius to move out of the Potter home and spend the summer alone, there's barely any room for my thoughts to move around.

I need to get together with James at some point to schedule a check-up meeting with the prefects. Gag me. Trish mentions something about the new Gryffindor prefects having already given a couple of Slytherins detention. I'll have to talk to them about their motivations to assign detention on the first day. I nod at something Trish says about if the Weatherby boy, their reserve seeker last year, will be up to the tasks of the full-time position. He's not the smartest of the lot. I have to get that Ancient Runes essay I was assigned over the summer finished. I had a look over it in class this morning, and it was abysmal. I still can't believe that I wrote that crap.

By the time Trish has finished her Quidditch talk, we have both agreed that Gryffindor will most definitely beat Ravenclaw for the cup, there are many promising choices for the open keeper and chaser positions, and that James has got to be the best captain they've ever had. The Great Hall is just about empty. I feel a headache coming on.

"Hey, Trish?"

She's getting up to leave the hall, but turns back to me. "Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I bail on you? I think I need some alone time today. I think I'll go out to the lake." My head is about to explode. I need quiet.

She smiles. "Sure. I understand. It'll give me a chance to get my Magical Creatures essay out of the way."

"You've already got an essay?"

"I didn't finish the one assigned over the summer."

I smile and shake my head at her. "I'll see you tonight."

"See you, Lily."

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I walk as if in a trance, letting every thought leave my mind and enjoying the day. The air is crisp, and the sun is glittering off the surface of the water. There's a nice breeze that is coming off the lake. It lifts the hair off of my neck and into my face. But I like the feeling of the sharp ends of it hitting my skin, so I do nothing to hold it back. I walk for twenty minutes, until I decide that I'm sick of walking. So I turn around to head back.

When I'm about to pass the cliff on the south side of the castle, I see something odd. A funny formation in the stone that doesn't make sense. Since I don't have to be in class for a while longer, I decide to go investigate.

The tower here comes almost to the very edge of the cliff, but then heads back farther away from it again. If you can brave the foot and a half walk space to it, there is a little inlet where the tower curves back until the square wall comes back to the edge of the cliff, with the rocky beach below it. This had to be intentional. What kind of stupid architect would do this by accident?

I walk the sheer edge of the cliff and find myself in a generous space with ten feet of solid rock in either direction. The castle wall looms over me. The view of the lake from this spot is absolutely gorgeous. The only way anyone would be able to see me from here is on the other side of the lake, and by then I would be just a pinprick of color against the gray stone. It's hidden from the beach below by both the sheer height and the slight outward slope of the cliff. I can see the water below crashing against the rocks if I lean over the edge a bit.

This has got to be my favorite spot ever. I take a seat on the flat stone floor and lean back against the castle wall for a moment to take it in. I take in the view of the lake, the harsh winds that control the air from here, and the feeling of complete seclusion.

I've got to get back for Defense, so I reluctantly sit up and brush off my robes. But I'm definitely planning on coming back later. Finally, a place where I can really be alone.

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I'm just about to lay my head on my desk and take a nap when the new Defense teacher finally comes in, fifteen minutes late.

"Sorry I'm late. Some idiot thought it would be a good idea to raise trouble on the first day." It's a woman in her late twenties that comes in with the biggest air of authority I've ever seen from someone her age. There's nothing particularly remarkable about her. She's on the short side of average height, average build. She's got this mass of shoulder length curly brown hair – a rather mousy color – which she wears clipped just above the nape of her neck. But her presence is overwhelming. Every eye is on her as she stalks up the row of desks to the front of the room.

"I am Professor Caldwell. Don't push my buttons, as I push back rather hard. Other than that we should get along just fine. Now turn to page – yes?" A Ravenclaw girl, Diana I think, raises her hand.

"Aren't you an Auror? I think my Dad has talked about you."

"You're Carl's daughter, aren't you?" Diana nods at Professor Caldwell's question. "Yes, I am an Auror."

A new voice speaks up. "Then why are you teaching? Don't we need all the Aurors we can get out in the field?"

Professor Caldwell puts the book she had just picked up down. "Your name?"

"Timothy Farfield, Professor."

Well, Timothy, I'm pregnant." A hush falls over the room. There's no turning of pages, no noise. 'I'm pregnant' is a rather odd declaration for a teacher to make, especially one you've just met. I guess it's not really that odd if you think about it. But, then again, we've never been faced with something like this before.

"I will be teaching here for just the one year, so that Professor Dumbledore has time to line up a proper teacher for this class. It's more convenient than a desk job because the bulk of what will be my maternity leave falls on Christmas break. Are there any more questions?"

Now that she mentions it, I can see a small bulge in her stomach that I didn't see before. Anyone would mistake it as a little fat, except that it seems very out of place on such a toned, athletic body as that of whom I now know to be an Auror.

A boy in the back--I can't see who it is--raises his hand. "How will you raise a baby at Hogwarts?"

"My husband and I have already hired a nurse to come here after Christmas and look after the baby while I'm in class."

"Won't your husband want to be involved with the first few months of your child's life?" Of course, it would be Sirius to ask that question. He's lounging in his seat with his arms crossed and looking at her suspiciously, as if she has something that she's hiding. She searches him for a moment, as if telling him that she knows who he is and what he's doing. He seems to be comfortable with her. It can't mean much. Everyone on earth seems to know who Sirius Black is. And if they don't, they're Muggle-born.

"My husband is on business in Turkey for the year. Now, no more questions. We're already behind enough as it is. You will need to turn to page 13 and read the short chapter there before we can begin our discussion for today. You have fifteen minutes."

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The chapter is dull. It has something to do with the proper uses of certain spells. I'm not really sure what it says, to tell the truth.

When Professor Caldwell gets up from her desk and walks to the board, I was just about to fall asleep again. She begins writing what seem to be descriptions of a few situations on the board. One has something to do with a cat, but her body is blocking the rest as she writes.

She turns around and looks at us, sizing each one of us up. "In the back, with the blue shirt, why are you in this class?" I turn to see that she's pointing to Blake Smith, a Hufflepuff with only enough sense to know how to study. Whatever profession he goes into, I pity his boss.

"Because I did well in it on OWLs, and defense is a good thing to get for almost any profession."

"Not good enough. You with the ponytail, why are you here?" It's Diana again.

"Because I'm planning on opening my own shop once I'm out of school. Defense would be a good thing to learn."

"Terrible answer. You with the glasses." It's James. Here we go.

"Because I want to learn to defend myself and the people I love against the dark arts."

"Bingo. That is the _only_ reason _any_ of you should be here. This isn't something to impress your employer. It's not, as many of you may think, a self-defense class. It's _Defense Against the Dark Arts_. Which, I am coming to believe most of you don't think of nearly serious enough." Diana and Blake hang their heads a bit. "I'm not condemning you for it. I'm just telling you that it is a problem we need to correct immediately. I would rather you be here than not."

"I have written five situations on the board." She moves to the side to give us a clear view. I can hear the scratching of quills before she's even cleared the words. Now I can see that the cat question has to do with an Animagus. What do you know? I thought for a bit that she was just eccentric. "You are to copy them all down and write an essay on what actions you would take in each and why, of whatever length you need to make it for an adequate answer. This will be graded on only participation and technical knowledge, as in; do you know how to do what you're planning? We will discuss whether or not your answers were correct in class next week, when you hand them in."

"You, with the red hair." I look up from my paper to find Professor Caldwell looking straight at me. "What would you do if you saw what looked suspiciously like someone using the Imperious curse on another person?"

"Break his concentration?"

She looks pensive for a moment. "Interesting answer. It might work. But did you know that there are spells that will do the trick?"

"No, Professor, I didn't."

"Not many civilian wizards do. That is just the type of knowledge you will gain in this class."

"Now I want you to divide into groups of up to four between yourselves. I will come around and give each of you a situation. You are to discuss it and write about how you would handle it and why, to be turned in to me before the end of class."

--------------------------------------------------

I decide to go to an early supper by myself. The noise of the Great Hall and the lack of conversation help me to gain a bit of quiet in my head. The tension from everything eases off my shoulders. Afterward, I go out to the cliff and watch the sunset. It's a quiet sunset, slowly fading from blue to pink to almost black. The air has turned still since this afternoon. I could stay out here forever. But I can't, so I make my way back to the tower.

When I get to the common room, the noise assaults me before I even give Violet the password.

"Boisterous, aren't they?" I smile at her, sharing a little joke.

She gives me a rather tense, sarcastic smile. "You have no idea. What's the password, honey?"

"Garbuckle." She nods and swings open.

When I get to the dorm, it's not much better. The giggling inside can be heard through the closed door.

"Hey, Lily! Come join us. We were just talking about Clarissa's summer fling." Janie waves me over from in front of her bed, where the other four girls are sitting.

"No thanks." I smile at them. Sara and Trish are both there, but I never liked Clarissa or Janie enough to giggle with them. "I think I'm just going to head to bed early. Being Head Girl is more exhausting than I thought." Let them believe the excuse.

"I bet." They burst into giggles at Clarissa's innuendo. I just smile and pull back the curtains. Some people.

There, on my pillow, is the most beautiful rose I've ever seen. It's huge and in full bloom. The scarlet color of it is splashes against my white sheets. I pick it up.

"Ouch!" I drop the rose as soon as it touches my skin and it falls to the floor. A bright spot of blood is spreading on my finger.

"What is it, Lily?"

"A rose."

"What?" I frown at my finger as I listen to them all scrambling up.

I pick it up off the floor and show it to them, a bit of blood spilling on it.

"Some secret admirer you have." Janie goes over to the pitcher of water on the window sill and returns for a cup to put it in. "This thing is riddled with thorns."

"Yeah." I can't help but think of the few people who would have the gall, conviction, and knowledge to find a way to get up the girls staircase and put it there -- and one in particular. I have a feeling this rose has nothing at all to do with love. A brilliant, beautiful rose that's so covered in thorns that you can barely touch it? He's trying to send me a message.

"Where did it come from?" Clarissa bends down to sniff it. "It's beautiful."

Sara gives me a look over Janie's shoulder. I have a feeling she understands, too.

"I don't know, Clarissa. But I don't think I want to dwell on it. I'm just going to go to bed."

"Well, see you tomorrow, Lily." Trish leads them away, and I give her a grateful look.

Sara doesn't leave with them. She stands there for a moment, staring at me as if she knows something I don't. I know that it has nothing to do with how the rose got here, and I know she wasn't in on the situation. But somehow, I feel the look she's giving me is related somehow.

She takes my hand and heals the prick from the rose, then walks away with only a wry smile.

As I lay there in bed, the rose keeps drawing my attention. I can't look away for too long. The bloom is magnificent, but the black thorns are unmistakable now. And my blood still stains the stem.

I jerk the hangings past my nightstand and try to fall asleep, but all I can think about is that rose, and what it means.

**If you're confused about the scedule thing, (Sara and Trish having one class on Monday.) I'm sorry. I made the scedule to fit the story, and it just worked out that way. And I don't think it's inconcievable for them to have one class. Fred and George only had three NEWT classes. I would say it's plausible that they didn't even have class every day.  
**


	4. Musings on Responsability

**I realize how long it's been. I'm just starting to break throught the monumental writer's block I've been having. And it will most likely be a while longer still before the next one. I've got finals coming up, and writer's block doens't mix too well with those. But check my livejournal for updates. You never know when something will hit. And please, people, _please_ review. I really need some feedback.**

Chapter 3

Musings on Responsibility

I'm dead. I am so stone-cold dead it's not even funny.

This has been the worst morning of my life, and I haven't even gotten to class yet, which I'm late for, and it's Transfiguration. I'm dead.

I woke up to the loud bickering between Clarissa and Janie. Apparently, Clarissa had been flirting with Janie's ex. And, of course, that's cause to be excommunicated from the very delicate situation we like to call female friendship. I turned over to look at the magical alarm clock Sirius got me for my last birthday, to find that I had twenty minutes until class. That stupid alarm clock is supposed to never break!

I shot out of bed and grabbed everything that was within reach. And this drew Janie's attention, so I got drawn into the argument. Janie and Clarissa don't take Transfiguration, so they didn't realize that they were going to be the reason of my untimely murder. I won't even say what I'm thinking of them right now.

When I was finished telling Janie and Clarissa that they were both being idiots, I barely had time to take a shower at all. I had to skip washing my hair and throw it into a bun. I did a quick glamour spell before running out the door, which didn't help much at all. And I misplaced my book. I could have sworn I put it on top of my trunk, but it wasn't there. I spent who knows how long looking for it, since I can't show up to class unprepared, even if I am late. It ended up being under Sara's bed. Brilliant place for a book, don't you think? I didn't even have time to swing by the kitchens for some toast on my way to class. And now I'm late. I've never been late. Never, in all of my time at Hogwarts, have I been late to class without a plausible explanation.

Right now, I really want to cry. It's just one of those times when you're so frustrated that anything will help. I think a good cry would really help right now, but I can't. I have lessons. So I take a deep breath, and enter McGonagall's class. I'm so dead.

When I open the door, the entire class stares at me. Every single one of them. And it's not like one of those questioning, why-are-you-late-for-class stares. This is malicious. This is not the behavior one shows when a fellow classmate shows up late for lessons.

Dear Merlin. What have I done that I'm not aware of now?

"Are you aware, Miss Evans, that you are over fifteen minutes late to my class?" McGonagall is giving me that piercing, you-are-in-so-much-trouble look from her spot at the board.

"Yes, Professor. I'm so, _so_ sorry." I move toward my desk, hoping to get out of the spotlight as soon as possible. "It won't happen again."

"I would hope so. Ten points from Gryffindor, and I'll need to see you after class, Miss Evans."

"Yes, Professor." I take another step, and then another, and when she turns back to the board, I run for it, sticking my bum to the seat beside Sara and not moving.

McGonagall continues with her lesson as if I'd never interrupted. Which, I believe, has something to do with turning into a tree?

As soon as it's safe, Sara scoots a note across the table that reads,

_What's with you? You're never late. _

_And where were you?_

I know that it's not an exceptionally bright idea to ignore the lesson and write notes when you, as Head Girl, were just fifteen minutes late for class for the first time in your life. But I don't want to just ignore Sara. So I pull the paper towards me to write that I'll tell her later. But just as I'm writing _you--_

"Miss Evans." Why, McGonagall, why? "What is the proper wand movement to transfigure yourself into a large plant?"

Do you ever get that sick, sinking feeling in your gut, like the world is about to end? I try to gulp, but I nearly choke. I feel like I might hurl.

"I don't know, Professor." I swear, if it were physically possible to shrink to the size of a grain of sand right now I would do it. But instead I settle for sinking very, _very_ low into my chair and hoping everyone turns around and forgets.

Thankfully, McGonagall doesn't press.

* * *

"You had best be deathly and suddenly ill, Miss Evans, because that is the only viable reason for your recent string of irresponsible behavior." 

What? String of irresponsible behavior? Isn't she over-exaggerating this a bit? I was only late for class. Well . . . and not paying attention.

"No, I'm not deathly ill, Professor." I stare down at my shoes. She has this way of making you feel guilty, even if you know that there was nothing you could have done about it. I should have had three magical alarm clocks, just to make sure that I wouldn't be late because one of them broke, and to tell my friends to stop fighting because my life is more important than theirs.

I wish, with every fiber of my being, that someone, _anyone_ else could be in here with me. I'm so afraid right now I can't think straight. What on earth have I done? It must be pretty bad if I don't even know what it is.

I chance a look up to see McGonagall leaning back in her chair and staring at me. I look down at my shoes again.

"Why is it, Miss Evans, if you are not deathly ill, that you missed the meeting last night?"

Meeting? As in prefect meeting? Where, being Head Girl, I am expected to be even if I _am_ deathly ill? Oh, Merlin. I missed a meeting.

"I. . . ." What am I supposed to say to that? She's going to take my badge. "I wasn't aware of a meeting."

"Mr. Potter was there. And he most certainly informed you of it. He was just as baffled as the rest of us by your inability to show up."

_Potter_. Bloody James Potter made me miss the meeting. I bet he broke my alarm clock, and hid my book, and started that fight with Janie and Cassidy, too. Bloody wanker.

"Perhaps, Miss Evans, we were wrong in our decision." Is she saying what I think she's saying? I think my blood just froze. It's an odd feeling, your blood suddenly being replaced by ice. "Perhaps Head Girl duties are too much for you."

"NO!" I shouted that a bit too loudly, didn't I? "No, Professor. I can do it. I'm just having an off week. I swear on my cat's life. This won't happen again." Good thing I don't have a cat. But she doesn't have to know that.

"See that it doesn't. I expected better of you, Miss Evans."

How does she do that? Make you feel like you've just caused World War Three by disappointing her. I nod and continue staring at my shoes. I can feel tears starting to sting behind my eyes. I do my best to hold them back.

I am just about to leave when she calls back to me. "Oh, and Miss Evans?"

"Yes, Professor?" I don't turn back or look at her. I keep my hand on the door I was just about to open and look forward.

"See that you give a formal apology to Mr. Potter for being absent from the meeting. And I would prefer if you were to do it somewhere that the prefects can witness it. They need to know that their Head Girl at least has _some_ sense about her."

I can't even express how furious I am with James right now. I had my next two classes after Transfiguration free, so I had plenty of time to stew. Usually, time would help me calm down. But I like to think that this time I'm justified. This isn't just me losing control. He deliberately arranged this. This was malicious intent.

He's going to get some malicious intent of his own.

He nearly caused me to lose my badge. I don't think I've ever even _heard_ of a Head Girl missing the prefect meeting with no explanation. I bet he played it up, too. That prick! Oh, I'm going to murder him.

"Are you alright, Lily?" Sara looks at me across the table. Trish turns to look at me as well. I blink at them. I'd almost forgotten they were eating lunch with me.

"I'm fine." They shoot me a look. I shove in some food just to prove my point. "I am, I swear."

"Sure you are." Sara turns back to Trish, knowing when to stop.

I hear laughter coming from the door of the Hall. Lo and behold, the great prick himself comes waltzing in. I watch as they sit down, as they fill their plates. I bet they're laughing about me, and how he's bested me.

"Lily?" Sara's voice is worried and tense, but I try to push it out.

As I stare at them, countless scenarios flood my mind. James being attacked by a horde of angry bees. James being torn to pieces by an angry hippogriff. James tied up with inch-thick rope and lain across train tracks screaming for his life like those helpless women in American Western movies. I particularly like the one where James is dropped into a vat of acid and I laugh as he screams from the agony of the flesh melting off his body.

"Merlin, Lily." Trish must have noticed the gleam in my eyes. "Lily, please don't do what I think you're planning on doing."

"Don't worry." I don't look at them as I push myself away from the table. "I'm just going to apologize." I know they don't believe me. Who would?

I can feel the anger building up again as I walk over there. Each step I take is with renewed vigor. Each jolt from my heel hitting the floor is another reason to kill him. Some of the younger students are shying away from me as I pass.

"Bloody hell, Evans!"

I am very proud to say that when I shove James's shoulder to get his attention, he is in the middle of a bite. He misses his mouth completely, and spreads potatoes all over his face. I smile thinly at him as he glares in my direction and wipes his face. I know that it's incredibly juvenile, but that doesn't keep it from being highly satisfying.

"_Sorry_, Potter."

"I bet you are." He continues to wipe his face and doesn't look at me. "What do you want?"

"I've been sent to apologize."

He turns around and raises his eyebrow at me, as if to say, 'You -- apologize? You've come a long way, Evans. Maybe now we can put this petty fight behind us and become best chums and spend our weekends by the lake telling each other about our lives.' I know. It's amazing how much I can read into an eyebrow, isn't it? He turns back to his food, ignoring me.

"You know, for the _meeting_ I missed due to my _irresponsible_ _behavior_."

He doesn't turn back around, but his back stiffens and his eyes are somewhere to the side of his plate. When he answers, his voice is low and quiet so that only I can hear him. "Caught that, did you?"

I lean down next to his ear. This movement makes me think about the train, and that thought makes me smile. I can see the look of trepidation on Sirius's face as I move. I don't hide my smile from him.

When I whisper my response, I make sure that the air from my breath tickles James's ear. I'm not stupid. I know what goes on in that extremely thick head of his. I know that his feelings never really changed. They were just hidden behind his frustration and anger. I think that's one of the reasons all of this blew up the way it did. We never resolved things from fifth year.

"You listen to me, Potter." I'm thoroughly enjoying this power. No wonder he acted the way he did all those years. The thrill is amazing. "I'm not going to be your poor little victim. You'll get what's coming to you. I'll make sure that you _never_ forget this. And maybe then, you'll wish you weren't as much of a stupid wanker!"

I spin on my heels and stalk out. I've lost my appetite.

But then I think better of it. I twirl around with my hands in my pockets and a smile on my face, walking backwards through the row created by the tables so that I can shout back at him. He's facing me, so he can see my wicked grin and my shocking quick change in behavior.

"Oh, and Potter! I promise to never miss another meeting." My grin has to be as wide as my face. "I'll never leave you alone again!"

I twirl back around and walk out of the Hall with the stupid grin still plastered on my face. I walk past all the gaping mouths out into the Entrance Hall. I amaze even myself sometimes.

* * *

"You're Lily Evans, right?" 

I peek over the edge of my book, which is propped on the table, and eye the kid in front of me. He is still in his muddy Quidditch robes, and I wonder how on earth he found me. After shouting that threat at James I needed some space. Well, I was supposed to be meeting my friend Meredith from divination, but she bailed. I just feel better blaming anything at all on James right now. It's sad that whenever you disappear, people look in the library. I should get out more…though where I'd go is beyond me.

"Yes, I am." I put down the book to look at him properly. He appears no less disheveled. "Who are you?"

The kid has got to be no older than third year. Why would he want me? He's got James, my equal as far as power if nothing else, right there on the team. And he obviously just saw him out on the pitch, as James _is_ captain. Unless . . .

"You see, I'm on the Quidditch team."

I raise my eyebrow and lean back in my seat. "Really?" He looks down at his robes and blushes.

"Yeah. Anyway, my grades haven't been so good lately." He seems so sheepish. He rubs the back of his head the same way I've seen James do five million and a half times. "McGonagall is threatening to kick me off the team if I don't bring them up." His feet won't stay still. He stares at them as they move back and forth, as if he's trying to memorize a dance.

He's cute. I think I like him.

"Sit down." I nod towards the chair to my left, and he obliges. Good, he listens well. It'll make it easier to tutor him. Merlin knows I don't have room in my schedule for tutoring at all, much less someone that doesn't listen. "What's your name?"

"Mark Weatherby."

"Well, Mark, who sent you?"

"James Potter."

I smile. "I should have known. So, what position do you play?"

"Seeker."

I lean down conspiratorially towards him. "Mark . . . how bad does James want you to play?"

I almost laugh at the look of horror on his face. "There's no reserve seeker." His voice becomes a bit panicked. "Please, don't let me be kicked off the team. James would kill me. Not to mention everyone else in Gryffindor. Please."

I'm not sure if he's saying that the whole of Gryffindor house would kill him, or that James would kill the whole of Gryffindor house. I guess it's one in the same, really. Both are highly likely to happen if the team loses their only seeker. James tends to get more than a bit carried away with Quidditch.

"Don't worry, Mark. I'm not going to let you fail." The relief on his face almost makes me sorry I'd played with him. "What subjects are we talking about, and how much help will you need?"

"What I really need help with is Transfiguration and Charms. They're evil."

I laugh, and he looks a bit relieved at my casual attitude. "How much help?"

The half-pleading, half-embarrassed look on his face says everything.

I can feel a grim smile creeping up on my face. This whole situation must have been planned. There's no way James didn't do this on purpose. Charms _and_ Transfiguration? He knows that he is more than qualified to tutor Mark in Transfiguration. And he knows that I know it too.

"I can handle the Charms well enough, but I don't think I have enough time for intense tutoring in two subjects." Now I'm the evil one. I feign a look of quiet contemplation for a bit, having fun with it. "You know what you need, someone who's especially good in Transfiguration. I'm just normal good."

"Yeah! That's exactly what I need." He nods his head up and down enthusiastically. I can see how he'd go out for Quidditch so young. He's a real out there personality. He's latched onto me in the span of five minutes, like we've been life-long companions.

"Now, who's the best in Transfiguration?" This is so much fun. Pawn someone off on me and fill _my_ schedule to the breaking point? I don't think so, Potter.

"You know, I would say it's James Potter." I say it in a way that's a little questioning, a little shocked, and pull it off like a Muggle magician with a tablecloth. You know, when they pull the tablecloth right out from under the completely decked-out table settings and everyone is in awe.

"James? But he told me to come to you." He's terrified. I bet James has been the devil in practice lately. He's probably scared the boy witless. Brilliant. That means this'll make him even more furious.

"He is the best." I am _so_ evil. "I don't know if anyone else would be up to the job."

I take a moment to think, as if I'm just now concocting a brilliant plan. "Let's do this: You go and talk to him. Tell him that I could do it, but I'm not sure if I would be at top form. Tell him that if he's willing to take a risk, I think I could take up the slack for him." I say it in a way that makes it sound like I'm doing James a favor. I am so good.

"Lily. . ." The kid looks genuinely terrified. "He's going to _hurt_ me if I tell him that."

"Surely he wouldn't." I sound a bit scandalized and very doubtful.

Mark nods his head. "You haven't seen him when he's angry. He's really scary."

I just smile. "Tell you what. You should tell him right now. He's probably in the common room with the Quidditch team, right?" He nods again, and I continue. "If you tell him in from of the team, they can protect you if he tries anything."

He still looks so scared. And skeptical.

"Hey, why don't I walk with you to the common room? I can keep an eye on you from a distance, and make sure he doesn't try anything." He doesn't seem impressed.

I lean down again, as if I'm about to tell him a big secret. I wonder if he even knows he's stretching forward a bit in his chair. "Did you know that James is scared of me?" He doesn't seem to believe me. After all, who could scare his perfect Quidditch captain? I lean down again so that I can whisper, "Why do you think he didn't come ask me himself?"

* * *

When we get to the common room, Mark heads straight for the Quidditch team in the far corner. I go to the chairs in front of the fireplace and choose one where I can see them plainly. I give Mark a thumbs-up. He turns his back to me and faces the team, looking terrified. 

James turns to him as he walks up. "How'd it go?"

I can see Mark gulp from where I'm sitting. "She said that she could tutor me in Charms."

"Is that it?" I can see James's head turning in my direction and quickly bury my own in a book.

"She said that . . ." Here there's a very pregnant pause.

"Yes?" James is getting agitated.

"Thatyouwerethebestintransfigurationandthatonlyyoucaoulddoitbutthatifyouwantedtotakeariskthenshecouldtakeuptheslackforyou."

I'm not sure if the silence from the team is because they didn't understand or because they did.

"Did she really?" I can feel James's eyes burning into my head.

* * *

"What are you trying to pull?" 

James is glowering down at me from my spot at the fire. The rest of the team just went up to bed. As soon as they were out of sight, he beelined straight for me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, James. Obviously, I'm reading a book, and not pulling anything."

"You know exactly what you did." He grabs the arms of my chair so that I can't leave.

I look back up at him in defiance. He is_ not_ going to terrorize me. "I didn't do anything you didn't do, James. You know that my schedule is just as tight as yours is, and you tried to pawn your own team member off on me to tutor. Don't even start on me. At least I had the decency to take on one subject when I didn't have to. You, however, cannot claim as much."

He stares at me a minute, not moving. He leans into my face. "You better watch it, Lily. One day you're going to bite your own tail."

"Like you did today?"

He doesn't answer. He glowers at me for a while. I can see the fury at being bested in his face. I can see the change as he realizes he has nothing to say to that. He's in that mode again, the one that terrifies me. He just stands there, glowering. I don't know what to do.

He makes a move to pull his face away from my own, and for a moment I dare to hope he's leaving. But then he makes another move. He puts his foot against the lip of my chair and kicks it. The force propels me back a few feet. The chair's legs catch the carpet behind me, and it lands balanced on its back legs, suspended in air for a moment before falling to the ground with a loud _thump_. He stalks off toward his dorm.

I know he did nothing that hurt me, just scared me witless. Even if the chair had fallen over, it wouldn't have hurt me. He just pushed my chair with his foot, that's all. But it scared me witless. I feel a burning need to attack in my own defense.

"You know what you're problem is, James?" I stand up and spin around to face him.

He's about to mount the stairs, but stands still as he replies, "I'm sure you'll tell me, Lily."

"You can't stand the fact that you actually have to _do _something."

He turns around and mounts the stairs without a word. And I feel deflated. The whole thing was very anti-climatic.

* * *

"That was absolutely evil." 

When I get in the dorm, the girls are all sitting on Trish's bed. It looks they were waiting for me.

"That was the point, Trish." I close the door behind me, lean back against it and close my eyes. The look in James's eyes is still plastered against my subconscious like a photograph. I'm still a little shaken by it. Maybe if I close my eyes and look at it for a moment, it will be gone when I open them.

No such luck.

"Why?" My eyes snap open and settle on Clarissa as she says it. She's looking at me like I just killed a baby bird for no reason. Her eyes show a lot of sadness and a little fear. Clarissa is stereotypical everything. Blond hair, blue eyes, big heart and not so big brain. Everyone always knows what she's thinking, how she's feeling. She couldn't tell a lie or keep a secret if her life depended on it.

"Because he wanted to pawn his little Quidditch player off on me when my schedule is just as packed as his is." I'm getting defensive again. I hate that. I get defensive and lose control. "He sent Mark to me, knowing that I could never say no to him, just to spite me."

Trish gets up and walks over to me. "For what it's worth, he first planned to do what you've forced him into, even when he hardly has any time to think with the first match coming up; he was going to tutor Mark." Trish's voice is calm and steady, her eyes understanding.

My voice is a bit distraught, a little desperate. I don't quite know why. "Then why didn't he?"

She smiles at me, and there's a bit of a laugh in her voice when she speaks. "Because he wanted to spite you."

"This fight is getting out of hand. It's affecting everyone, and not just the two of you." Janie is looking at me from the bed with one of those penetrating gazes, her voice accusing. Where Clarissa is light, Janie is dark. There's a certain mystery in her eyes that makes you a bit unsettled. "I think the two of you need to get over whatever it is you're mad about and let the rest of the world get on with their lives."

"I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon." I finally shove myself off the door and push past Trish. I keep my eyes downcast as I begin to get ready for bed.

Truthfully, I wish this fight would be over just as much as everyone else. I don't want to be fighting with James. I want to go back to the way we were, classmates that had a few friends in common, occasional acquaintances when the situation arose to be so. But I can't bring myself to forgive him, and the memory of the last time I tried to apologize is still firmly planted in my head.

Just as I'm getting into bed, Sara comes and sits. She'd been silent throughout the conversation. I never know what Sara is going to say, which side she's going to take.

"Why don't you just talk to him? He'll have some things to say that I really think you need to hear."

"Of course he would."

She waits a beat, staring at the wall, as if trying to decide what she should say. "Lily, he's a good guy."

"I know that."

She looks at me with a mixture of amusement and pity that only Sara can pull off without getting me upset. "Just think about it, Lily. You can't stay mad at him forever. He didn't even do anything."

"Yeah, sure. I'll think about it." I cross my arms and look away. I wish she would just leave. This conversation is making me uncomfortable.

She laughs. "No you won't."

But when she does walk away, I find myself feeling very lonely.

* * *

It's three days later, and I'm about to reach the Entrance Hall after another session in the library when I hear a peculiar noise. It sounds like an argument. Merlin knows we've been having enough arguments around here, and this one looks like it might explode any second. So, naturally, I rush off towards it. 

Just on the crest of the stairs, I hear a loud _bang _followed by what sounds like someone being thrown to the floor. When I reach them, I see James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Snape.

James has his wand pointed at Snape, who has collapsed against the stairs. Yet again, here he is being a stupid prick. I could kill him right now. I really could.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Every face looks up at me. Snape's is the only one without horror written all over it. "Can you not restrain yourself, Potter? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Lily." James doesn't look at me. Fine time to become timid, Potter.

"I don't? I hear a bang, thinking that someone is being attacked, and then I come to find Snape collapsed on the stairs with your wand pointed at him! What would you think?"

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions, that's for sure." I wouldn't exactly say that he's livid. He is angry, but more on the disappointed side. Well, he should know better than to go around picking fights!

"I'll show you 'jumping to conclusions.'" I'm just about to punch him myself when Remus grabs me to hold me back.

"Lily--"

"What, Remus!" I shove him away, and he lets go without a fight. But he keeps his eyes trained on me like I might explode. "What could any of you possibly have to say?"

Snape sneers in my general direction as he raises himself off the stairs and wipes the blood from his lip. "What do you care, Mudblood? This isn't your fight."

I turn to Snape before any of the guys can say anything. They're all too chivalrous for their own good sometimes. "Shut up, you git! This has nothing to do with you."

"You're so blind!" I turn back to James as he says it, his face curled in an unpleasant snarl.

"I can see perfectly clear--" I was about to say 'clear enough to see that you're the biggest prick I've ever met' when Sirius interrupts me.

"Really, this isn't what you think."

"Sirius, if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it." I know I shouldn't have said it. I know it's completely the wrong thing to say as soon as it leaves my mouth.

I can see his face harden. I _really_ shouldn't have said that. "Fine. We'll just leave you to your crackpot assumptions, Evans. I, however, don't have time for this. Come on, guys."

Sirius leads a reluctant Remus and Peter off as voices start to head towards us. A large group must be heading back from supper. What are they going to think to see the two heads yelling at each other like this? Again! Why is this happening so much to me lately?

James is obviously thinking the same thing, because I feel a jerk on my arm. He's pulling me off towards one of the old classrooms that flank the Entrance Hall, leaving Snape behind on the stairs.

"Let me go! James Potter, let me go this instant!"

He does, but unfortunately, we're already in the classroom.

"What is the matter with you?" He's pacing around, pretty much talking to himself. Except for the occasional sideways, accusatory glance. "You never used to act this way! What happened to you over the summer to make you so vicious?"

"I'm not the only one yelling here."

"You're the one that started it, out of nowhere."

"You attacked Snape!"

"I didn't attack him! HE ATTACKED ME!"

He lets out a frustrated scream and pulls on his hair with such force, that if I didn't know it was indestructible, I'd be afraid he'd pull it clean out. Then he turns back to me, and stares at me as if I'm trying to steal his favorite toy right out from under his nose. "Is there even a reason, or did you just decide to make my life a nightmare because you thought it would be fun?"

"Make _your_ life a nightmare? Are you mad? I was only retaliating!"

"From what?"

"You!"

"I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!"

He kicks a chair clean across the room. It shatters against the far wall with a resounding _crack_. Neither of us make a move as we watch the pieces fall to the ground in quick succession.

I stand stock still as he turns to face me. There's no telling what he'll do to me now. It's like he's lost control. It's like he's turned into me. I can see in his eyes that he sees it, too.

His eyes look past me to the door that's just opened. I turn to find Mark there, still with horror.

"What is it, Mark?" James's voice is now calm, level, completely controlled.

Mark gulps before he answers. "There's some second years trapped in the cave on the east side of the cliff. The ceiling caved in on them."

Do you ever have those moments when time seems to stop? It's like you're standing in the same moment for hours, but in reality it's just a moment.

"WHAT!" James and I yell in unison.

I think my heart might have just stopped. All rivalry is forgotten as we spring into action.

He turns away, pulling something out of his pocket, and I turn to Mark. I lean down to him so that my eyes are level with his. "I need you to listen to me very carefully, Mark." He nods. "Do you know where the Headmaster's office is?" He shakes his head. "Do you know where McGonagall's is?"

"Yes!" No doubt he's probably been there a million times for discipline, knowing how he idolizes James.

"Good. I need you to go there and tell her what happened. If you can't find her there, I want you to go to the teachers' lounge. Do you know where that is?" He nods again. "I want you to tell every teacher or prefect you meet on your way what's happened and for them to follow you. Tell them that James and I sent you. Got all that?" He nods. "Then I want you to go to the common room and _stay there_."

"But--"

"No buts." James comes to crouch by my side. "If you don't do everything she's told you, you or someone else is going to get seriously hurt beyond anything that's already happened. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Then go." I push him out the door. "And run!"

As soon as he's gone, I turn to James. "Do you know another way to get there?"

"Yeah, follow me."

* * *

We run down hallways and up stairs, up to the fourth floor. Every step is an eternity. Every moment is another moment those kids are trapped in the cave. _Trapped in a cave._ How am I supposed to handle this? 

As soon as we turn the corner at the top of the stairs, he comes to a sudden stop, causing me to run into his back, nearly knocking us both down. He shrugs it off and starts to push on the side of the mirror so that it slowly inches to the left.

"Come on!" He turns back to me. "This thing is almost impossible to move on my own."

I snap out of my shock, and together we push until there's enough space for both of us to squeeze though. As soon as we're on the other side, he flicks the mirror-door closed with his wand and we immediately start to run again.

"Couldn't we have just done that to begin with?"

"No. It's resistant to magic from that side."

A couple of times I start to run straight when James takes off on a side passageway I don't see. He has to come back and jerk me over in the right direction. Within ten minutes, we come across a light cloud of dust, and I can hear coughing. The air is thick, warm, and very gritty. It's still completely dark except from the light of our wands.

The ceiling is getting more cracked, more unstable the farther we run. I know that James notices it too, because he shoots me a worried look.

"We're going to have to get them out in a flash, that ceiling looks like it's about to crumble." As soon as James finishes his sentence, we turn a bend, something you wouldn't even know was there unless you knew it was there. We step out of the shadows to find about seven kids looking at a pile of rubble in front of them like they can wish it away.

At the sound of us coming up behind them, they turn to see us. Both the light from our wands and theirs illuminates the space well enough to see the joy on their faces. I don't think it's something I'll ever forget.

"Come on!" James beckons them over, waving his hand. "The ceiling is about to collapse."

Just as the words leave his mouth, the ceiling starts to move in a way that I don't think it's supposed to. I can see the knowledge in their faces. This ceiling is going to fall on us. Oh, Merlin._ The ceiling is going to fall on us._

I barely have any time to react. I pull a couple of the kids to me and shout a shield spell at the last moment. I can hear the same words coming from James's own mouth before the sound of the rocks falling down around us drowns out all noise, even the screams.

When the dust clears, we're incased in a rubble room about fifteen feet around.

The dust is swirling around us, making it hard to breathe.

"Are all of you okay?" James's voice is raspy and clogged when he speaks. I can hear crying from my right.

"Billy isn't." The girl who spoke is sitting beside Billy, who has nearly dissolved into sobs. His leg is sticking out at a rather odd angle. Blood is everywhere. It just happened, how can there be so much blood?

I'm down beside him and ripping off the hem of my robe before I can even think about it. "Did a rock hit it?" He nods, unable to speak. James is beside me in a flash.

I'm tying the makeshift tourniquet around the leg, above the wound, when James speaks. "How much does it hurt?"

"A lot." He can barely get out the words.

"We can only put a splint on it." I rip more fabric off as I speak, trying to stop the blood. "There's nothing we can do for the pain until we're found."

"What if we're not?" A kid from behind me said it. I turn to glare at him.

"We will be found." They all stare at me, shocked and scared. I can't say that I feel any better than them. "Do you all understand that? They're _not_ going to leave us here," my voice comes dangerously close to breaking, "even if they have to get every student and teacher in the school to help." A few of them nod and a few of them just stare, but no one says anything back.

When I turn to Billy again, James is down on his knees, talking to him. "It's okay to cry, you know." No one else is close enough to hear. "Did you know that I cried at a Quidditch game one time?" Billy looks at him like he's lying. The great James Potter cry? "Yep. A Bludger broke my leg and I was thrown off my broom. I cried for the entire school to see, and no one thought of me as a baby. And it looks like it wasn't even as bad as this." I highly doubt that. "And you know what? I even got a few dates out of it. The girls seemed to think it showed I was manly enough to let everyone see my real feelings."

Billy lets out a sort of choke that I'm guessing is supposed to be a laugh, but that's all it takes. Before long, his tears are falling freely. I sit down beside him and wrap him up in a hug. He leans into me and cries.

I look up at James as I stroke Billy's head, and we share a look. I'm not sure how to describe it. It seems so impossible that we were just screaming at each other ten minutes ago about our stupid fight. I can't believe how much of an idiot I am.

* * *

It takes Billy another ten or fifteen minutes to calm down. I imagine that he's still in a lot of pain, but he seems to be coping with it well. 

I walk up to James. He's staring at the rubble wall, which I assume is the entrance to the cave from the grounds.

"Do you think we could move it ourselves?" He stares at the rock, barely inclining his head toward me.

"No." My voice is flat and calm, quite a feat right now if you ask me.

"Why not?" He looks a bit agitated by my answer. He apparently expected me to say yes and then proceed to ask him how we should do it.

"Because that rock is at least twenty feet thick in each direction."

He stares at me as if I'm lying to him because I think it would be funny. "There's no way you could know that. _How_ can you know that?"

"Because I know." I shrug, but that doesn't satisfy him.

"That tells me nothing." He bites off his words and turns back to the rock.

It's obvious that the strain is starting to get to him. Give him a situation where there's next to no chance of success and everything is left up to him, and he'll find a way. But give him a situation where he has a bunch of kids looking to him for answers while all he can do is wait around for someone else to save them, and he gets angry and irrational. Leave it to James.

"I'm clairvoyant, James."

He blinks at me, as if he imagined that I spoke. "What?"

"Clairvoyant. As in I can sense things."

He looks at me skeptically. "I don't remember that."

"Of course you wouldn't. You never took Divination, and not many other people know about it."

He stares at the rubble before speaking again. "Does that mean that you've been reading my mind?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not Occlumency, James. It just means that I can occasionally infer things correctly that I otherwise wouldn't be able to know."

"Like what?"

"Like lots of things." I consider for a moment how best to explain this to him. The few people who know about it either watched it develop or just understood. "Do you ever have moments when you have to make a decision, and your gut is telling you which one to make? You just _know_ it's the right one, even if reason or logic says otherwise."

"Yeah," he nods his head, "especially in Quidditch. But what does that have to do with anything? Anyone can do that. It's called instinct."

"Well, my instincts are a bit different. I've never been wrong. Sometimes it's with decisions and sometimes it's something like knowing how thick a pile of rock is. You never know. I have almost no control of it."

"Does that mean that you're some kind of Seer? Can you learn to control it?"

"No. This is it; all I've got."

We're silent for a while, and I figure that the conversation must be over. So I turn to walk away, but James calls me back.

"Wait!" I turn back to him. He looks so lost and hopeless. "We need to do _something_. We can't just sit here and wait."

"Like what? You want to levitate rocks above the heads of ourselves and seven children and pile them up on the other side in an even more unstable pile than it already is, so that they can fall on top of us? I don't think so."

I can see the anger in his face. It's not at me, but at the situation. It feels odd to not be the recipient of that stare after the month we've been having.

"Listen, James. The best chance we have is to wait and keep these kids occupied until we're found. They're scared witless and they need us right now."

"I guess you're right." He jabs his hands in his pockets like a sulky five-year-old and turns to stare at the wall again.

"Hey kids!" He's still staring at the wall as he says it. "Who wants to play a game?"

We all look at him like he's lost it. A game is not what I had in mind. No one answers, just stares.

"I've got a better idea."

James turns to me as if to say, 'What's better than a game?'

"How about you tell us all a story of your heroic adventures?"

He raises an eyebrow at me while a few of the kids answer affirmatively. "Like what?"

"How about the time you wrestled the Giant Squid because he stole your homework?"

He stares at me from over the rim of his glasses. "Very funny, Lily."

"You mean to tell me that wasn't true?" I smile at him, letting the joke ease all the tension I've built up.

"No, it wasn't." But it seems to have given him an idea. "But I know the perfect _true_ story."

He tells the kids to sit down on the ground. While they comply, he comes over to me and slips a small mirror into my hand. "Speak Sirius's name into this until he shows up. Tell him about everything. He should be wherever Dumbledore is."

* * *

I have no idea what James is getting at, and no idea how this mirror is supposed to help me talk to Sirius. And why would James know that Sirius is with Dumbledore? But, here I am, saying Sirius's name into the mirror, feeling stupid. 

On the tenth attempt, I'm nearly ready to give up when Sirius's face appears. "Don't you have any patience, Prongs? Wait, you're not Prongs." I can barely see the features of Sirius's face in the small mirror. "Lily? What are you doing with the mirror?"

"Trying to talk to you. Because apparently, you're with Dumbledore."

"Yeah, we're all out by the cliff trying to clear the rubble after James told us that the other side caved in. But why are _you_ doing this?"

"Because James is busy. Listen, the rubble is at least twenty feet thick on your side. The other side is even thicker. We can't do anything over here because we've only got about fifteen feet of space. And this boy named Billy broke his leg in the cave-in. We put a splint on it and tried to stop the blood, but it's still bleeding. He's going to need help as soon as you can get it to him. We've got seven kids in here with us."

He stares at me. "How do you know how thick the rubble is?"

"Because I'm God!"

"Alright. I'll accept that you're crazy."

"The teachers will understand."

"Sure." He turns away to talk to someone that sounds like Dumbledore. I can hear the rocks being piled up as they clear them away.

His face comes back to the mirror. "Alright. They say we can have you out of there in twenty minutes, and Madam Pomfrey is going to be ready for Billy."

I let out a breath in relief. "Thanks, Sirius."

"Don't thank me. Thank whatever deity being has been giving you luck all night."

"Oh, and Sirius." He's about to cut off the connection when I call him.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry about earlier. And tell Remus and Peter, too."

"It's alright. We all get a little crazy sometimes. We all forgave you already, what with your life being in danger and all. If you're going to hand out apologies, I would start with James." And now he's gone.

I look over at James who's still miraculously holding their attention with some crazy story about sneaking into the Shrieking Shack to catch the ghost that live there. If I didn't know better, I would almost believe it myself.

I can't believe myself. How stupid can you get? He is right there; being the nice bloke I always knew was there. I was just too jealous to see past my own injuries. He is fully capable and fully deserving of the post. But the sight of him standing over Snape, the look on his face just before he shattered that chair, are still stamped in my mind.

* * *

The kids are playing games in the dirt when James comes to join me against the rubble wall. 

We sit in silence. The look on his face is a bit worn, very tired.

"How are you?"

"As good as can be expected." He looks down at his arm. "This hurts something awful though." His sleeve is covered in blood.

"James! What happened?" I jump up from the wall, to my knees so that I can get a better look at his very bloody arm.

"My arm got cut, what does it look like?"

It looks like a little more than a cut, that's what it looks like. I tear his sleeve where the rip is to see the wound. He was in the middle of the shield spell. How did he get hurt?

"I thought it was just a scratch, so I didn't worry." I can feel him staring at me as I examine the wound, his voice almost mournful. "But it won't stop bleeding."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a curse. It should have stopped by now."

"I know." He looks at me oddly, and a bit angry. "That's what I said."

"I might be able to heal it. It looks shallow enough." I look up at him for confirmation.

He just shrugs. "Go for it."

So I run my wand up the length of the wound. It reaches from the front of his bicep to the back of his arm at the very tip of his shoulder blade. How on earth did he get this cut? I can feel the muscle knit together as I run my hand across it, my fingers slick with his blood.

He looks down at it when I've finished. "That's going to be a pretty obvious scar, isn't it?" I nod and he shrugs. "Worse things have happened."

I look up at him, wondering. I wonder about his wound, about why he won't offer information about it. I wonder who the real James is. He's not the cool, collected classmate I used to know, or the angry, violent man I've seen him be lately. He's something entirely different.

"I'm sorry." I say the words before I think them, but for once, I don't regret them.

"For what? Me having a scar? That's a pretty sorry thing to be sorry about, Evans." There's something odd in the way his head is cocked, that I don't quite know how to handle. His eyes are quiet, questioning.

"No, I'm sorry for this fight." I bring my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around them. "I know I was treating you unfairly, and I was jealous. You deserve Head Boy, and you're more than capable. So, I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything, so I look up from staring at my knees to see his reaction. He's smiling. "Are you really?"

I smile too. "Well, no." He laughs. "But I am sorry for the way I handled it. I think I got it into my head that you somehow needed my approval."

"But you still hate me for stealing your thunder."

"Yeah, pretty much." I can hear shouts from the other side. I turn away from James to see a few rocks falling from the places in the wall.

"I think I can live with that for now."


	5. Attention: All Those That May Care

Attention: All Those That Might Care

I know that no one is really going to give a flip about this story. I dropped it ages ago. But, if there might be three and a half of you that might want to know, I have an update. The story is being republished! That's right, my beautiful work of art that no one read will be up again for the world, or fanfiction readers, to see. I have a new name, sanitypirate. And the story will be republished under the title, The Fall Down. There's a lot of things I wasn't ecstatic about with this story. But, I've never been able to get it out of my head. I'm just too good I guess. :) But, honestly, go read the new story. Leave feedback maybe if you remember this incarnation about what you'd like me to keep perhaps thorw out of the few chapter I've posted. I know I've gone back and forth about quitting fanfiction a million times. But I really am going to finish it this time. And I've learned a lot from the experiences I've had here before. There's going to be a lot of fun going on, so come join us. The new story will be up later today.


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